A Day in The Life.
by Spoogie
Summary: The Misadventures of Gikita, Town Drunk/Village Idiot of Kelethin


Daytime in Kelethin. It's another busy day for the treetop city of   
woodelves.   
  
Well. Busy for most.   
  
For Gikita, self-appointed Town Drunk, it's just another sun-cycle of   
lazy meandering. After spending the last of his copper in the local   
tavern, he jogs his way --very carefully-- down a long, steep ramp on   
his way to a lift.   
  
Being an alcoholic in a town such as Kelethin is difficult work, indeed.   
If you're not out of cash and therefore out of drink, you're falling   
off one of the giant platforms that the town is built on.   
  
In his unique, wobbly way, Gikita stumbles towards the nearest lift.   
Time to gather wasp-wings, or bat-wings, or wolf meat, or something to   
sell. Grumbling to himself, the drunkard mashes the button for the lift.  
As the construct comes rumbling up, he wishes he'd been born female.  
Or at least feminine-looking enough to pass for a lady. People just   
toss girls in need whatever coinage they want, and overlook good,   
hardworking men like the town drunkard and village idiot!   
  
By the end of the bitter rant, the lift has stopped at our beloved   
drunkard's feet. Hopping on, Gikita thwacks the button with an open   
palm, having a little inward chuckle at the Paladin racing up to the  
lift, hollaring for him to stop the descent of the platform so he can  
get on.   
  
When the ground meets the bottom of the wooden lift, Gikita hops off   
and jogs off into the forest.  
  
"Oooh, la la," he mutters to himself as he jogs over a hill to see that  
a hunting party has just passed through. From time to time, he has   
noticed that warriors and such will just run through the forest,  
slaying with reckless and stupid abandon. All they want is to keep   
themselves sharp and in shape by killing all the giant wasps and the  
like they can find. That's just well and good for a bottom-feeder like  
Gikita. Whistling, pleased with his good fortune, the cheerful drunkard  
goes from corpse to corpse, pulling off a wing here, harvesting some  
royal jelly there. A nice afternoon's pull, if he does say so himself.  
  
Deeper and deeper into the forest surrounding his home town he wanders,  
happily humming a tune he makes up on the spot. He's never much cared  
for -killing- the animals whose body parts he sells, so it's much   
better to let the others do the dirty work, and let an opportunist like  
himself come bobbling along and make a humble profit. Over a hill,  
then another. And another. And another. The town shrinks smaller and   
smaller over the wood elf's slender shoulder, but as long as he's   
making such a killing off of other people's work, Gikita is loathe to  
return. Already he has a backpack or two full of carcass-parts that'll  
bring him at least a few Platinum.   
  
Gikita spots a dull-colored object standing out against a tree, so   
naturally he darts over to investigate. He lets out an exuberant   
chuckle as he realises the bag is a coin purse. Stooping to pick it up,  
The elf sees another leathery object out of the corner of his eye. With  
a greedy grin, he reaches over and grabs it. To his surprise, it won't   
budge from its place on the ground. Mumbling, he releases the money bag  
and tries to use both hands. Still no use. In a flash of inspiration,  
the drunk puts his foot against the trunk of the tree that the leather  
bag is stuck to.  
  
And then the stench hits him.   
  
Blinking, Gikita looks up. Slowly. To his abject terror, he realises   
that he's been tugging on an orc's foot. With a choking gurgle of  
fear, he releases the foot and backpedals on all fours. The orc makes   
a gaggish noise that Gikita assumes must be laughter. Scrambling   
backwords, he bumps into another smelly mass. This one hauls him to his  
feet, shouting, "Filthy wood-elf!" Gikita, lost in his swirling vortex  
of horror, manages to squeek out, "I'm the one that's filthy, when you  
stink worse than a necromancer?"   
  
Apparently, orcs aren't fans of the art of smartass quips.  
  
The orc behing him bellows that same crude guffaw as his comrade's   
porcine face twists into a hellish mask of rage. Gikita takes a step  
back, startled by the expression. This proves to be an unfortunate   
error as the orc launches a club-hard fist forward, catching the frail  
elf in the face.  
  
Gikita tumbles backwards into his pain, landing on the forest floor   
with a crunch of dead leaves. His vision swims, but not in the good   
way. He rolls over, scrambling to his feet and taking off in a dead   
sprint. Cursing himself for having gone so far, the drunk raises a palm  
to his face. Bringing it back, he can see blood. "Damn, damn, damn,   
damn," he mutters on an endless loop. How could he be stupid enough to  
let the town out of his sight? A glance over his slender shoulder shows  
him that he's being pursued. Gulping in a blessed lungful of air, he  
does the only rational thing and shrieks like a little girl with a   
skinned knee. Thin arms flailing in the breeze, eyes held wide open,  
Gikita wails for help. A green fist impacts into the back of his head,  
providing him the incentive to keep moving.  
  
Just when he's about to change directions and run another way, Gikita  
spots it. Kelethin. Home. Where he gets his booze at. He throws himself  
at the feet of the first guard he sees, clawing at the dirt. The sounds  
of metal clanging against metal fills the air, until the death rattles  
of the orcs informs him that it's safe to rise. Brushing dirt and blood   
off his tunic, Gikita smiles thankfully at the guard who turns his head   
and pretends not to see him.   
  
The lift squeeks its way upward, as gloriously slow as ever. Stepping  
out onto the platform, Gikita allows himself a moment just to breathe   
clean elven air. Then he checks his backpacks.  
  
"Empty."   
  
"Empty?"  
  
"Yeah, empty!"  
  
"After all that, your bags were empty?"  
  
Gikita gives the bartender a baleful look, who goes back to cleaning   
glasses and chuckling. "Gods. Leave it to YOU to go through all that  
and come out empty-handed." Gikita nods with a bitter grin, shoving   
off his stool and pouring the remainder of his drink on the bar and   
muttering, "Missed a spot."  
  
!*!*!END!*!*!  



End file.
